THE DICE MAN is a novel that in most all possible universes would never have been finished and never published. But Chance, ever busy, created a series of accidents in 1969-70 in Deia, Mallorca, that allowed a 222 page manuscript written over four years by an un-ambitious, unpublished 37-year-old… Continue reading
GENERAL BOOM DREAMS (Exerpt from Chapter 15 of JESUS INVADES GEORGE)
In 2008 General Boom had had enough of serving in Iraq. He had never read about a war in which the more enemies you killed the more grew to take their places. As far as his intelligence people could tell for every Iraqi his men killed or threw into one of our prisons, we created three new people who wanted to shoot us or blow us up. One bright guy from Harvard had figured that at the rate we were going, in fifteen years we would have the entire world shooting at us. He even showed graphs to prove it.
One part of General Boom said to himself “Bring ‘em on!”, but another part felt that having the whole world going after us might not be a good idea. Especially since they would all certainly cheat. They wouldn’t join an army or wear a uniform or fire missiles at us or drive tanks we could blow up, or have nuclear submarines we could sink, or planes we could shoot down, or headquarters we could bomb into oblivion.
Instead they would all dress up just like the people who didn’t hate us so we wouldn’t know whether they were good guys or bad guys and thus to be on the safe side we’d have to kill them all. Continue reading
THESE TWO QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS COME FROM AN INTERVIEW WITH ROB WRINGHAM FOR HIS MAGAZINE THE NEW ESCAPOLOGIST (See www.newescapologist.co.uk) Upside: What have been the best things to come from the invention of Luke Rhinehart? The invention of Luke allowed me to become much freer from the single personna of… Continue reading
God is an Emptiness that we fill with us, and then worship.
The wind does not tell me of the man who fell and died; its breeze and bluster stay silent in their noise.
The sun does not tell me either, its slivers of light striking gold and green and blue, making brightness everywhere but saying not a word.
The stars across the heavens wheel in majestic muteness, their diamond rays sparkling in the sky, but wordless in their wonder.
The sea is silent too, in its rush and roar, its whispering hiss, its slam and slushing up the beach, it says not a thing.
The earth does not speak of the man who fell. It spits out life from its bowels, greening all, greying all, killing all, but not a word of the fallen man.
It is we who fall, we who feel the need to tell.
The universe rolls on. Continue reading